DRAMAtical Secret
by Keera Tasuma
Summary: AU (This is based more on the anime than the game) Aoba enters the king's harem in order to search for his long-lost twin, Sei. Once there, he finds that it is, more than anything, a gathering place for those who have suffered and lost their way. When the country begins to collapse, the power that Aoba has feared and hidden since childhood might save the ones he has come to love.
1. PROLOGUE

**PROLOGUE**

_What… what is this?_

The midwife stared at the newborn twins with a mixture of fascination and horror. In the background the maids were wailing for the loss of the mother, but she could not tear her eyes away from these children. The silver hair that connected them, the dark markings on their legs and arms. These children… were not normal humans. She knew that for certain. The midwife reached down to touch the hair of one of the infants. Immediately upon her fingers brushing the soft strands, the child began to cry. His voice woke his twin, and two pitiful wails rang through the birthing chamber.

One of the children opened his eyes, and their clear gaze shot through her like an arrow. The newborn's cry was cutting into her as an almost physical pain. _The father will kill them, _she realized. It couldn't be any other way. These children who were so obviously blessed or cursed, out of the fear that all men hold for the unknown, would not be allowed to live.

Almost unaware of her own actions, the midwife took up the knife that had been used to cut the umbilical cords. _Forgive me, little ones._ She held the blade with a practiced hand, and it hovered over the silver connection between the newborn twins. They gurgled, and she closed her eyes. _Forgive me!_

()()()

**_Eighteen years later…_**

"Grandma, I'm leaving."

The old woman _harrumphed._ "Make sure you close the door properly this time."

The young man laughed, a joyful sound that would attract anyone who heard it. He wrapped a cloak around his shoulders, pulling it over his eye-catching blue locks. "Alright. I'll see you tonight!" The sound of the door closing was the same as always, but when she looked back on that day, it would echo in the woman's mind. She would find herself falling into the inescapable cycle of _if only._

_If only she had told him the truth._

_If only she hadn't let him go out alone._

_If only she had acted sooner…_

But at that time, she only chuckled at his youthful exuberance and rocked in her chair, wrinkled hands smoothing the mending that she held on her lap. Her faded yellow skirt caught the sunlight that came through the windows of the small but comfortable house, and she began waiting for evening, when he would come home again.

[DRAMAtical Secret]

START


	2. DATA01 City

**DATA_01**

**[City]**

"Hair that _hurts_ when you touch it?" The thug threw his victim against the wall of the alley. Aoba swayed but remained standing, arms held in a ready guard.

_I knew it._ Though sweat trickled down his neck, his were burning eyes, staring out from under untrimmed bangs like orbs of blue flame. He took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. His heartbeat that had begun to stutter settled back into a normal rhythm. _I shouldn't have said anything._ He licked his lips. _Now what?_

"Come to think of it," one of the underlings murmured to another, "didn't we hear rumors about a guy like that up at the palace?"

Aoba's eyes narrowed. _The palace?_

The abomination of polished marble and gold, rising over the city as though mocking the filthy inhabitants; home of the King. Why would he be in that place… Aoba forced another deep breath. It was a rumor, only. And yet…

The thug gave a well-aimed kick to the young man's stomach, and Aoba's thoughts scattered. The azure-haired youth coughed, feeling the ache that resonated deep into his body. His attacker grabbed him by the air, causing Aoba to cry out at the sudden pain that shot through the roots into his skull. The man grinned. "He's pretty enough. Hey, what do you think about being sold to the harem?"

The underlings laughed as though their leader had just given an example of sparkling wit.

Aoba felt the thin, self-mocking smile that only appeared when he was about to say something totally insane stretch across his face. "Oh… Why not?"

()()()

_Idiot, idiot, __**idiot.**_

As he soaked in the steaming water, mute slaves scrubbing him within an inch of his life, Aoba mentally berated himself for being such a fool. In a way, everything had gone perfectly; his face and slender but strong body meant that there was hardly any preamble needed for the Overseer at the gate to toss several coins to the thugs that Aoba had been captured by. However, Aoba was now faced with the simple and solid fact that he had just been _sold. _Into the king's harem, no less. A _harem._ He sank down, blowing bubbles in the warm tub.

_I am __**such**__ an idiot._

Someone's hands brushed his hair and he spun around, panicked. **_"Don't touch me!"_**

The dark-haired slave froze, golden eyes wide. His hands were still extended, one holding a fine-toothed comb. The triangular markings on his face and bare shoulders marked him as belonging to one of the western tribes. His brow creased, and he bowed his head slightly.

There was something fragile about those hunched shoulders, and Aoba felt his rage dissipate. "I'm sorry." He held out a hand. "It's alright, look at me." The slave had a heavy collar circling his throat, plainly visible when he lifted his head. Upon meeting his eyes Aoba was amazed; they had slightly slitted pupils, like the eyes of a beast. When the slave parted his lips slightly as though to speak, white teeth flashed before his mouth closed again.

Aoba knelt at the far side of the tub, looking up at the startled slave. "What is your name?"

The creases in the slave's forehead deepened and he shook his head, eyes apologetic.

"Ren, sir," interjected the blonde who was preparing his fresh clothes across the room. "He can't speak."

_Sir?_ Aoba nodded his thanks, and then looked back at Ren. "I'm sorry for yelling. I don't like people touching my hair, understand?"

After a pause, Ren nodded.

Aoba smiled. "Good." Turning, he eyed the loose white tunic that the blonde, Clara, if he recalled properly, was holding out. _I have the feeling that I've gotten myself into something troublesome._ He stepped out of the tub and allowed himself to be wiped dry by Ren, who was observing him with a curious gaze. He then slid the tunic over his head, feeling the soft fabric settle around his thighs. "Pants..?" he sighed at Clara's expression. "Of course not."

He licked his lips. "Clara, tell me about the harem. Can you?"

"No, sir. But," she gestured to the door opposite, "those who can are right there."

_The Concubines… the __**other**__ Concubines, I suppose._ Aoba grimaced slightly as he reminded himself what exactly he had gotten himself into. He was about to walk into something entirely different from any previous adventure. Street smarts had little place here, he was certain. In a place like this, he would have to change in order to survive.

Could he do it?

_"__Tell me about this rumor."_

_The thug gave a disbelieving glance. "You're all tied up and about to be sold, and you want to hear palace gossip?" He snorted. "Well, fine by me. There's some rumors that some high-up visiting the castle was flogged for assaulting a young man who lives there. They said that the guy had hair like yours." A low chuckle. "That hair might make you quite the commodity, you know."_

_Aoba was silent._

A deep breath. Aoba stared at the door contemplatively. A rumor… was he willing to do something so insane and reckless for a maybe-clue? If he used 'that' he could probably still escape… he chuckled, closing his eyes. _I really am an idiot._ When he opened them, there was determination, a newfound resolve in his gaze. "I'm ready."

Ren tapped his shoulder. When Aoba looked at him in surprise, Clara explained, "Every Concubine is assigned a personal slave. Ren will be yours."

Aoba gave a small smile, which the slave did not return, but those golden eyes flickered with something – satisfaction, maybe?

The newest Concubine of the King of Platina stepped forward, and his fingers wrapped around the cool, silver handle. _"Open Sesame,"_ he murmured, and pushed the door open.

()()()

_He had been curled upon himself in darkness for so long. Waiting, unable to do anything else. If he moved, if he acted, he would hurt someone else. The human heart was so very fragile… and so he waited. Sooner or later he would be needed again. And when that time came again he would gladly destroy everything._

_For the sake of 'him' alone… everything would shatter._


	3. DATA02 Harem

**DATA_02**

**[Harem]**

It wasn't what he expected. Though, Aoba had never been in anything even remotely resembling a harem before, so his expectations had been slightly skewed, anyhow. Around a room that was large and mostly open, several young men were scattered. They were all beautiful, in different ways.

On one of the plush red couches sat a pair of fair-skinned twins, legs intertwined. They glanced up when Aoba entered, eyes glinting with interest behind pale golden bangs. "Hey, the newbie's here."

_Virus and Trip._ He had learned their names before bathing, told by a large, dreadlocked guard that had eyed him like a slightly deformed calf at market. It would seem that the spontaneous purchase of new Concubines was not approved by all.

At their words the others milling about the room paused and looked. "I can see that," commented the youth on the opposite couch boredly. His strawberry-blonde hair was cut short around a face marked with several silver piercings, which showed him to be of southern origin. There was no emotion in his voice, and those bright green eyes were strangely flat.

_Noiz._

Aoba shifted his gaze to the tall young man in the crimson tunic. He was handsome, though a scar marred his sharply featured face, which was framed by long hair of a deep blue-violet. The hair was pulled into a careless horsetail that lay over one side of his neck. Tattoos could be seen on the Concubine's bare legs and shoulders, disappearing beneath the fabric but plainly continuing. Deep red eyes, like fine wine, observed the newcomer with first confusion, and then shock.

Aoba's own eyes widened, and he shook his head ever so slightly. Koujaku bit his lip. _Wait,_ Aoba whispered with his eyes. And Koujaku nodded.

()()()

"Aoba." Koujaku clasped the younger Concubine's hands with distress written across his face. "What are you doing here? How did you end up sold – how is Miss Tae? Is she still well? God damn it, Aoba," there were tears in those kind eyes, "I wanted to see you again, but not here. You should know how dangerous a place like this is for you."

"Tell me about the harem, Koujaku." Aoba's voice was calm.

Koujaku's brow creased. "Aoba, you couldn't possibly –"

"Koujaku." The blue-eyed youth gave a small smile. "Please."

After a moment spent staring into that steady gaze, Koujaku sighed. _This brat._ "It's hardly a harem, really. The King almost never visits. In the two years I've been here he only came once, for the twins."

"Both?" Aoba made a face that evoked laughter from his friend.

"I wouldn't know. As you might have noticed, there isn't a lot of interaction between Concubines. But Aoba, tell me honestly, what are you _doing_ here?"

Aoba wet his lips. "I got caught by some thugs and sold to the harem."

"Impossible, you're stronger than that."

"They were handling my hair… I couldn't put up a good fight."

Koujaku's eyes widened slightly, and he reached out as if to touch the blue locks, but instead tweaked his friend's nose. "I see. Sorry that you had to go through that."

"It's alright. I got to see you, after all." Aoba smiled to cover the twinge of guilt that resonated in his chest. He hadn't lied, but he hadn't told the entire truth, either, which was just as bad. To distract himself he gestured at Koujaku's appearance. "How did _you_ end up here? I thought you had returned to your birth country."

Koujaku returned the smile, but it was shadowed with pain. "It's a bit long of a story for right now…" he spun around, body positioned defensively between Aoba and the entrance to the curtained alcove.

"Ren," Aoba sighed, "I said you could leave me alone for a few minutes.

The slave ducked his head slightly, but didn't seem very apologetic.

Koujaku eyed the mute with interest. "He seems rather attached to you, doesn't he?"

"I suppose."

"Every Concubine has a personal slave, but they usually just help with dressing and meals. This one hardly leaves your side."

_It's because he's frightened._ Aoba felt certain of that. Like a small child, Ren was afraid that if he let his new master out of his sight, he might disappear. It was similar to how Aoba himself had felt as a child, whenever his grandmother was home late, and that fear was something that he pitied. "It's alright, Ren. We're coming out now."

As he went to leave the alcove, Aoba paused. "That's right, there should be one more concubine, shouldn't there?'

Koujaku snorted. "Clear's a strange bastard. One can never be sure where he's slinking about."

Aoba chuckled and pushed aside the sheer curtain, emerging back into the sitting room. The first thing he noticed was that Noiz was curled on the far side of one of the couches like a cat. The twins were nowhere in sight.

_"__Tch!_ They ran off again," Koujaku muttered.

Aoba crouched beside the sleeping Concubine with a raised eyebrow. "They do that a lot?"

"Regularly. The harem only has one guard, and they know how to slip around him."

"Oh, that huge dreadlocked guy? He showed me in. He didn't seem very friendly."

Koujaku gave a worried look to his friend. "Be careful of him. Mink doesn't approve of the harem."

_"__Hmm."_ Aoba smiled softly as Noiz shifted in his sleep, his face oddly childish. The southern Concubine seemed to be the youngest of them all. The skinny youth made Aoba want to protect him. Perhaps it was a sibling's instinct that he had never had the chance to use.

Koujaku sighed. "You should go to bed."

"Yeah." Aoba stood, giving his friend a worried glance. Koujaku was obviously uncomfortable with his being here. But regardless of what Koujaku thought, he was going to find out the truth.

As he lay back in a bed far softer than was truly comfortable, Aoba placed his hands behind his head and stared at the sculpted ceiling.

_Sei… are you here?_

()()()

**_Destroy it._**

_"__No…" he was frozen, eyes wide and shocked. Why was he here, what was happening? He reached towards the figure slumped within the darkness. "Mizuki –"_

**_Destroy it._**

_A trembling hand reached towards him. Those light eyes were bloodshot; he was in pain. "Help me… Aoba…"_

_"__Mizuki!"_

**_Destroy it!_**

_"__NO!" he screamed, and something shattered._

_..._

_Don't come close to me._

_Don't look at me. Don't touch me._

_I don't want to break you._

_Please… don't come any closer._


	4. DATA03 Voice

**DATA_03**

**[Voice]**

**_Three weeks later:_**

Aoba was standing on the balcony when the stranger burst in through the harem's windows. It was the twins' cries of alarm that alerted him. Spinning around, the Concubine saw a man cloaked in black. He wielded a deadly-looking dagger. It _would_ be deadly, if no one did anything.

_Damn! Today is Mink's day off._ Aoba ran forward in time to pull Noiz out of the way of that flashing weapon. The youth had been napping, as usual, and wasn't awake enough to dodge. As it was, the blade cut his hand.

The assassin lunged again, his blade seeking Aoba's heart. Panicked, the slender youth threw up a hand. **_"Stop!"_**

The cloaked man froze.

"Aoba!" Koujaku lunged forward, pulling a curved blade from its hook on the wall. It was a decorative weapon, but in the red-eyed man's skilled hands it was a serious threat. He spun it in a series of elaborate maneuvers, and the assassin fell back, clutching his arm. Blood dripped onto the green carpet.

_"__The flowers have thorns, it seems." _His voice, muffled by the mask he wore, was tinged with sarcasm. He glanced at Aoba, his gaze seeming to linger for a moment more than was necessary before he darted out the way he came.

Koujaku remained in a defensive stance until he was certain that the would-be-assassin had fled and would not be returning. Then he turned to Aoba. "Aoba, are you hurt?"

"No, I'm fine. But Noiz –"

The green-eyed youth tried to brush him aside. "It's fine. It doesn't hurt."

"Your point is?!" Aoba yanked the navy-clad Concubine back down to the floor when he tried to leave. "Ren, bring bandages."

"This is utterly pointless," Noiz observed as Aoba wrapped the clean white cloth around his hands.

"Shut up. Wounded people should quietly let themselves be treated." The blue-haired youth was completely focused on his mistrations, and so didn't notice that Noiz was staring at him with those expressionless eyes. "You… are very strange."

"I'll take that as a compliment." Aoba tied off the bandage and gave a nod of satisfaction. "Don't overuse it, okay?"

Noiz got up and walked off towards his room without a reply.

Aoba sighed and gave a wry smile, one eyebrow up. "He's not cute at all."

Koujaku, looking on, just shook his head.

But then Aoba looked up at his friend with a serious expression. "Koujaku, what was that about? You know, don't you? Tell me."

"That's the harem's "other" purpose, Aoba."

The blue-haired Concubine looked up in surprise. "Virus, Trip." He stood. "What do you mean?"

"You see Aoba," Trip leaned on his brother's shoulder with a grin, "The King never comes to the harem. But everyone _thinks_ that he does. The public thinks that their ruler is a real lecher."

"The story, Aoba," Virus gave his twin a disapproving look, "is that the King is infatuated with the "flowers" in his harem. But in truth, those rumors only exist so that traitors and rebels will try to get to the King through here. We're a decoy. Charming, isn't it?"

"I see." Aoba licked his lips, aware of Koujaku who stood behind him, glaring at the two.

"But still, your reaction there was pretty impressive, Aoba." Virus gave a smile that made the younger Concubine instantly wary.

Trip nodded. "I think we've become your fans, Aoba."

"Thank you… I suppose." Aoba turned away, seeking an excuse to leave the situation. "I'm going to check on Noiz."

()()()

He pushed aside the sheer, lime-green curtain and stepped into the darkened room. "Noiz? Are you still awake?"

There was no answer, and so he crept in further, bare feet sinking into the plush carpet. At last he found himself beside the bed. Noiz was perched at the edge of the mattress, staring intently at his hand. "What, so you were still up…" Aoba's eyes widened. Noiz had the fingers of his other hand digging into the wound, and was watching the red spread beneath the bandage without a hint of pain crossing his face.

"Stop!" Aoba grabbed the injured hand, holding it between his palms as he met Noiz's unconcerned green eyes with his worried ones. "What do you think you're doing?"

"It doesn't matter," the youth stated flatly. "I can't feel it."

Aoba's eyes widened, and he reached out to touch the younger Concubine's face, his fingers brushing the strawberry-blonde hair. "Noiz, you… can't feel pain?" _Somehow that's-_

Noiz reached up and covered Aoba's fingers with his own, which were damp with blood from his wound. "I can feel you touch me… but just barely. Nothing is hot or cold, nothing hurts. That's why it doesn't matter."

"No." Aoba's voice was calm, but there was emotion behind it, barely suppressed and about to overflow. "You can't go on like this."

_Can I do it?_

He looked at Noiz, who showed the slightest hint of surprise, the first expression Aoba had seen on the youth's face. He was afraid… he could fail. He didn't want to go through that again – but then he laughed at himself.

_When was it that I stopped walking forward, I wonder. _

Aoba placed both hands on either side of Noiz's face and stared directly into those bright green eyes. "Noiz," _I can do this. This time… for sure._ He took a deep breath, closing his own eyes and reaching for the trigger, buried deep within him.

His eyes opened, and they were burning eyes.

"Noiz," he said again, **_"I'm going to step inside of you."_**

And the world shifted.


	5. DATA04 Soul

**DATA_04**

**[Soul]**

It was dark. It was dark, and it was cold. Even though he knew that he was walking across this space, there was nothing anywhere, and Aoba could hardly tell that he was moving. Perhaps he wasn't.

"Noiz!" He called into the darkness, listening for answer, but what he heard instead were the tired voices of two people.

_"__We can't even have him go outside like this."_

_"__Honestly, it's a disgrace to our clan."_

_"__What should we do?"_

_"… __I heard that the King of Platina is collecting young men for his harem. It's a pity, but…"_

_"__He'll at least be able to be worth something there."_

Aoba felt rage bubble within him, and he strode forward with renewed determination. He knew, with the instinctive conviction he sometimes had, that those were Noiz's parents. _But what kind of parent does something like that?_ "Noiz!"

_Clink._

There he was, curled within the darkness like an unborn child. Manacles encircled his wrists and ankles. Aoba knelt beside him and lay a hand on his shoulder. "Noiz…"

_"__My parents were right. There's no reason for me to exist like this."_

Aoba's forehead creased. Voices laughed and gasped within the darkness.

_"__That's hideous!"_

_ "__What the hell is the matter with you?!" _

_"__Monster!"_

Noiz curled tighter around his core, as though trying to hold himself together. _"If no one accepts me, and I can't accept myself, then why should I try living? I can't feel anything…"_ he trailed off as Aoba stroked his hair. The older boy's expression was sorrowful, but kind.

"That's not alright, Noiz." Gently, he pulled the youth up so that he was kneeling, and wrapped his arms around him. "You can't just stay here like that. "You can't feel anything," but I don't think that that's really it. You just don't know how. So…" he pulled back a little and smiled so that Noiz could see. "I'll teach you."

_"__Aoba..." _something flickered within those green eyes. "_Then, it's not okay for me to give up?"_

"No."

_"__I'm not allowed to disappear?"_

"Definitely not," Aoba said firmly, and stood, pulling Noiz with him. He smiled once more. "Because, I'm going to destroy you."

Noiz's eyes widened as the space around them began to shimmer.

Aoba closed his own eyes and spoke to the wounded soul. **_"I'm shattering this darkness that you've been hiding in, Noiz."_**

Like a crumbling fortress, the blackness fell away, leaving only light behind. When that light touched Noiz's shackles, they shattered. The youth stood there, wonder on his face. He was warm. For the first time… he felt the warmth that accompanied light like that. And the one who had brought it to him held out a hand, still smiling, inviting him into the world.

Without hesitation, he took that hand. A small smile touched his lips as they returned to reality, and Aoba collapsed against him. He supported the unconscious Concubine with one arm, the other raised so that he could eye with something akin to amusement.

_My hand… hurts._

()()()

_Sei…_

_Sei._

_The twin I've never met. But I want to meet him… Is he like me? I want to meet my brother, more than anything-!_

_Where are you? I'm going to find you… Sei!_

**_Aoba._**

_Sei…_

**_Aoba. Hurry and come to me, Aoba. _**

**_I need you…_**

**_…_**

_Don't worry, Sei. I'm going to be there soon. Wait a little longer… just a little longer._

()()()

"Noiz, is Aoba in here with –"

Noiz hushed him, and Koujaku frowned, but then his gaze was drawn to Aoba, laying with his head on Noiz's lap, a blanket draped over him. "He's sleeping. Be quiet."

The dark-haired swordsman glared. "I'm sure there's a _brilliant _explanation for this."

"You're too protective of him, Koujaku." Noiz looked down on the sleeping Concubine with a small smile, and Koujaku started. "He was fussing over my injury and wore himself out. That's all."

_That's all?_ Koujaku's forehead was creased deeply as he looked at Aoba, deep asleep with a light sheen of sweat across his face. He was plainly exhausted. _That can't be. Because, that time…_

**_Stop!_**

He sighed and strode forward, taking Aoba up into his arms despite Noiz's protest. The blue-haired youth murmured but didn't wake. "I'll take him back to his room."

Noiz shrugged and lay down. "As you like."

"Yes, as I like." And with that Koujaku turned and carried his friend out of the other Concubine's room. He handled the sleeping Aoba carefully, as though he were something delicate, breakable. When he lowered the youth onto his own bed, Koujaku touched his own forehead to Aoba's. _No fever. That's good._ But when he straightened the worry was still etched on his face.

He had been right, after all. The harem was no place for Aoba to be. It was too dangerous, in more ways than one. He thought of Virus and Trip, their attitudes towards Aoba that day, and ground his teeth angrily. And Noiz, suddenly so close to him. This wasn't a proper environment for someone like Aoba.

He sighed and sat on the edge of the bed, his hand hovering over the soft blue locks, and then withdrawing. _"Such a troublemaker,"_ he muttered. _"Just like always."_

**As I'm sure you noticed, the last couple chapters have been increasingly shorter. That's because I'm doing this and NANOWRIMO at the same time, so I have to focus a little more on my other writing. After this though, I'm going to try to peak at least 1000 words per chapter. Please review, it makes it way easier for me to keep relations friendly with my plot bunnies. ^-^**


	6. DATA05 Flower

**This chapter was inspired by a couple of beautiful fanarts I found. Major kudos to the artists for this one; I wouldn't have updated so soon without them.**

** art/DMMd-Tattoo-End-460849403**

** /post/tattoo-my-works-dramatical-murder-dmmd-aoba-probs-not-like-this-i-just-wanted-to/73890300485**

**DATA_05**

**[Flower]**

_The scream tore through one's very soul; it was the sound of someone breaking. That someone… was him. He clutched his temples as he fell to his knees, tears spilling from his eyes in an unstoppable flow. Koujaku was beside him, calling out to him._

_"I'm alright, Koujaku," he wanted to say, but he couldn't. His voice was entirely devoted to his cry of anguish. He wasn't alright. He was breaking- falling apart. Something within him was trying to be released. It felt as though hands were wrapped around his heart, squeezing. He gasped, unable to breathe. His vision wavered and went dark._

_He lay alone in that darkness. Finally, footsteps approached, echoing in the darkness. Someone touched his face. **"You really are fragile."** It was a familiar voice, so familiar. Who was it… he couldn't open his eyes. But, as that hand stroked his hair, there was no pain. **"Forgive me."** They were regretful. **"I won't try to speak with you anymore, so… you can forget."** The gentle hand withdrew. **"It's okay if you forget about me. Pretend that I never existed. Aoba…"**_

_And then they were gone. Aoba wanted to call out, to ask them to stay. There was something that felt complete when they were there. But he couldn't speak. He couldn't move. He could only lay in that darkness, tears flowing down his cheeks as he waited for his body to wake. But as he waited, he almost wished that it wouldn't. Because once he woke, he knew that he would forget that warm, gentle hand._

_Still, when the voice of the one who led him through his childhood called for him, he had to answer. Saying a silent farewell to the unknown figure within the darkness, Aoba opened his eyes._

()()()

"Are you alright, Aoba?"

The blue-haired Concubine smiled. A breeze off the ocean ruffled his hair and clothes as he stood beside Noiz on the balcony. "Yeah, thank you Noiz. There was too much excitement last night, I think." He glanced over the green-eyed youth. "But what about you?"

Noiz looked at his freshly-changed bandages with a small smirk. "Everything is a little strange right now. I could feel when I ran into the dresser this morning, and the wind right now is cold. It's different."

"You'll get used to it." Aoba leaned against the railing and tilted his head back, closing his eyes contentedly. The good thing about Noiz's overly relaxed attitude was that the younger Concubine didn't seem to feel the need to ask about what had happened the night before. His eyes opened. Koujaku was a different story, though. Aoba knew that his childhood friend had suspected something for some time now.

"Ah, Aoba." The twins leaned against the doorway out to the balcony and grinned. "Could you help us extract Koujaku from his room?"

Aoba straightened, using one hand to keep his hair out of his eyes as the wind picked up. "What for?"

"The king's calling for him. No, not for that," Trip chuckled upon seeing Aoba's expression. "There's someone here to see him."

"Alright." Aoba wandered across the main room to where the deep violet drape of Koujaku's room waited. He lifted the silken fabric with one hand and peered into the unlit room. "Hey Koujaku, there's someone to see you."

"Tell them I don't feel like it. It's probably someone from my country again."

_That's right, Koujaku was an Heir, wasn't he?_ Aoba sighed. "Alright, but you should at least leave your room at some point today." He waited a moment and got no answer. Another sigh. "Are you sulking because I was with Noiz last night?"

_"No."_

The growl was so adamant that Aoba erupted into laughter and let the drape fall closed. "Okay, okay. I'll see you at dinner, then."

"Fine."

Aoba explained the situation to the twins, and then slipped out into the hall, making his way down to the visiting room, which a helpful servant directed him to. As soon as he entered, his eyes began to hurt. The glass and crystal decorations that hung from the ceiling caught and reflected the light of colored lamps as they spun in the wind from the open window, creating a dizzying display. There was a heavy scent in the air that, when coupled with the lights, made it near impossible to think clearly. The young Concubine took a couple of steps forward and swayed, his skull beginning to pound. He fell against a solid chest. "Here now, are you alright?"

Aoba tried to answer, but only succeeded in moaning slightly as he went limp. The man supporting him chuckled. "Come on, stay with me."

Aoba's vision went dark.

()()()

_Koujaku placed a hand on his shoulder. "Don't cry, Aoba. Miss Tae will be here soon."_

_"But," the child gave a hiccupping sob, "she's so late."_

_The older boy knelt, meeting those tear-filled eyes. "She'll be here. I'll wait with you, so don't cry." He grinned. "Don't lose, Aoba." Even as he said that, he seemed to be holding back some kind of sadness._

_"Mm-hmm." The child slipped a small hand into Koujaku's. "Koujaku," he smiled up at his friend, "don't lose."_

_Koujaku was startled, but then he laughed and touched Aoba's forehead with his own. "Right."_

Someone was touching him, running thin fingers across his bare back. Aoba struggled to open his eyes, finally succeeding, only to see the tools laid out beside him.

"Oh, you're awake." The brown-haired man smiled openly as he slipped off his black gloves. "You won't be able to move for a while, so I thought I'd take this opportunity." He traced the planes of Aoba's back, his face enraptured. "Your skin is beautiful; I wonder what kind of flowers will bloom?"

Aoba shuddered with disgust. He tried to get up, but could barely lift his face from the couch where he lay. His heart thudded in his chest, panicked. He was afraid. This smiling man terrified him for reasons he couldn't understand.

"Skin isn't really smooth, you know," the man mused aloud as he tested a needle against his finger. "It has bumps and hollows, and finding those is a tattooist's job. Making what is beautiful even more so." Again he ran his hand over Aoba's skin, down his spine and across his naked hip, a thin smile curving his lips. "You will make a wonderful model."

_"Stop…"_ Aoba was trembling, his entire body aching to flee but unable to even move the slightest of inches. Something cold touched his skin and he froze. His pulse stuttered.

_Thud… thud… thud…_

The tattooist smiled.

It was ice, fire, pain. Everything that his body rejected forced into one point, concentrated a thousand times beyond what he could bear. And then again. He was biting his lip so hard that it bled, matching the crimson trickle that ran across the white skin of his back.

The man beside him hummed cheerfully and readied a second needle.

Aoba screamed.


	7. DATA06 Nightmare

**DATA_06**

**[Nightmare]**

He had no idea how long he had been laying there. His consciousness swam and flickered, punctuated only by those sudden moments of pain, and accented by the feeling of his own blood pooling beneath his naked body. His eyes were half open, but they stared blankly, seeing nothing. Occasionally the tattooist's muted voice would reach him through his haze. "_How beautiful",_ he would say. "_Surely this will be my greatest work of art yet."_

_Art…_ Aoba couldn't imagine how the fires of pain licking across his back could be described as art. No matter how elaborate the images forming on his skin might be, the cruelty that brought them to life would rob them of any beauty. A thin trickle escaped his eyes, streaking across his face, turned sideways on the couch, to pool by his cheek and soak into the velvet cushion. _It hurts…_ This man's techniques were nothing like the careful process he had observed at the street stalls and fairs. It was brutal, intense, and personal. The tattooist was violating him intimately, more so than any sexual advance would do.

After the first hour, he had fallen silent. The violent expulsion of anguish from his body had been too much for him, still weak from his use of power the night before, and now shackled by the drugs. His tortured cries had only served to inspire the sadistic artist, it seemed, causing the man to increase the speed and ferocity of his work. And so now the unwilling model lay without a sound, sprawled like a broken doll with flat, painted eyes that reflected nothing.

What had begun at a single point had spread across his back and up towards his shoulder, and each stab of an icy needle was followed by a poisonous burn that settled into his body like the ever-burning fires of Hell. He didn't remember when his agony began anymore. He couldn't imagine that it would ever end.

He was even losing the power to care.

()()()

_It was anguish. He could do nothing, even as that person cried out in pain. They suffered, and so he suffered. He wanted to reach out, to shield their mind from the pain, but his hands still could not touch them. He was not yet allowed to be with that person._

_And so he thrashed within the darkness, crying wordlessly as the one he treasured drew closer and closer to the brink, his sanity a thread stretched taunt, about to snap.__** Someone,**__ he cried, __**someone do SOMETHING!**__ And he screamed at his own powerlessness. _

**_I'm supposed to protect you,_**_he whispered into the emptiness, tears shining on his face. His head fell into his hands as he trembled. __**Please, someone… help him…**_

_They screamed once more, and he screamed with them, back arching as he gave everything over to his rage and despair._

()()()

The tattooist ran a finger over the reddened skin. The delicately intertwining sapphire vines started on the boy's hip and curled upwards, some stretching across his back, the rest coming to rest on his shoulder. The base design was finished. Now to add the blossoms, in a vibrant color to suit the model's youth and beauty.

The boy moaned when he switched needles, and a smile curled the artist's lips. For the budding flowers, a thinner, sharper needle was necessary to create the lace-edged petals. He reached up and twisted his fingers into the Concubine's hair, causing him to cry out. Tears spilled over his cheeks, and he gasped when the tattooist pulled his head back to observe those wide, blue eyes, comparing them to the palette beside him. The man smiled again, a thin, menacing smile. He knew just the colors to use.

His fingers remained wrapped in the soft blue locks as he worked, and the youth gasped and sobbed into the cushions whenever the hand shifted. Now _that_ was interesting. Just when he had thought the slender youth had exhausted himself beyond the point of reaction.

The first scattering of buds came into being, half-unfurled at the base of the spine and the shoulder. They were a soft, rose-petal pink at the edges, blushing towards crimson in the centers, which, when the open blossoms were completed, would be a deep, intense violet, deep enough to drown in. The artist chuckled as he flexed the hand in the boy's hair, and the Concubine whimpered. He loved his work.

()()()

Koujaku sighed and rolled off of his bed, grabbing his tunic from where he had tossed it the night before. He had promised to show up for dinner, as much as he disliked the thought of human interaction right now. But when he came out into the main room he frowned. "Where's Aoba."

"He's not back yet." Noiz was sitting on his usual couch, a worried expression on his face. "I haven't seen him since he went to send your visitor away."

Koujaku felt a hint of unease. "Who was it?"

"I have no clue, don't ask me."

"It was a middle-aged man," one of the twins threw out lazily. They were lounging back-to-back on the other couch as the slaves set out food on the glass-topped table. They gave a knowing grin, as though daring Koujaku to take responsibility for something.

"What was he _like?"_ the red-eyed Concubine threw out.

"Not terribly memorable, but he had narrow eyes like this." He demonstrated, and the other twin shook his head.

"He was wearing the robes of your country."

"A kimono?"

"Mm-hm. And he had these skull beads – where are you going, Koujaku?"

The dark-haired man didn't answer; he had already run out the door and down the hall. _Aoba!_ There was no way that that bastard would overlook someone as delicate and beautiful as the slender, laughing youth. _Aoba!_

He threw the door open with a slam.

The first thing to hit him was the scent of blood and ink, something that recalled any number of dark and distasteful memories. His eyes darted around the room, finding the bloodstained couch, and the limp figure upon it. _Ao…ba…_ those cursed markings spread across the pale skin, which was red and swollen beneath the inked pattern. The man beside him paused in withdrawing his needle and gave a thin, insincere smile.

"And who might you be?"

A single drop of crimson dripped from the end of that needle and landed upon the damaged skin. That sight, of Aoba, fragile, gentle Aoba, having been wounded and scarred, being marred with his own blood, broke the last of Koujaku's tenuous self-control.

**_"_****_RYUUHOU!"_**


	8. DATA07 Devil

**DATA_07**

**[Devil]**

"I'm only joking, Koujaku," the tattooist laughed as he set his tools aside. "Of course I remember you: my precious, unfinished masterpiece." His eyes hungrily traced the skin he saw. "Your flowers have bloomed beautifully."

Koujaku was trembling with rage. His eyes were fixed on the demonic bastard who had caused first him, and now Aoba to suffer. _"How dare you…"_ The curving designs across his body throbbed, shimmering faintly crimson. _"Ryuuhou!"_

The narrow-eyed artist wore an expression of pure bliss. "Those are good eyes, Koujaku. I would have liked to see eyes like that on this one," he stroked Aoba's hair, and the Concubine let out a soft moan, "but he was more delicate than you, it seems."

"Take your hands off him," Koujaku growled. Ignoring him, Ryuuhou ran his fingers through the azure locks, chuckling deep in his throat. "Don't _touch_ him, Ryuuhou!" Koujaku lunged forward, grabbing the man by the shoulders and shoving him into the wall.

Ryuuhou began to cackle maniacally. "Good, that's good! Rage, despair – let my blossoms consume your heart. Koujaku," he touched the Concubine's face in a twisted parody of affection, _"kill me."_ His dark eyes glowed with madness.

With a roar, Koujaku slammed the blasted man against the wall hard enough to bruise his skull. And then again. The tattooist refused to stop laughing, and his demonic mirth echoed in the small room. Koujaku screamed his frustration.

Aoba stirred. _Kou…_

Ryuuhou ran his thin fingers over the markings that spiraled up the arms that were strangling him. "If you aren't going to kill me, could you leave?" His gaze flickered to the bloody form laying prone on the ruined couch. "I want to finish my work."

The crimson rage overtook him. Koujaku slammed the artist against the wall again, and the man's head began to bleed. He dragged him to the opposite wall and smashed the laughing face against it. And then he threw Ryuuhou out of the window. They were on the third floor.

The tattooist was still cackling on the way down.

Koujaku panted, his tattoos glowing dangerously as his fury wound itself through the very fabric of his being. His eyes were no longer kind, but the slitted eyes of a beast. Aoba weakly reached towards his friend, his vision still dark at the edges. _"Kouja…ku…"_ he tried to lift himself up and fell to the floor beside the couch, his entire body numb with pain. But as the dark-haired Concubine screamed out with the feral passion of one in a demon's thrall, Aoba struggled to his feet in spite of the agony that merely breathing brought. _"Koujaku."_ Clad in only his own blood, the youth took one step towards his friend, and then another, swaying and gasping as he forced his shattered body to move.

_Koujaku is breaking._ He couldn't let that happen. Koujaku – kind, strong Koujaku.

The elder Concubine growled like an animal as Aoba approached, eyes burning. Aoba reached out, clinging to his friend to keep from collapsing. _I can't let him… disappear. I won't let that happen. "Koujaku,"_ he breathed with the last of his strength, **_"I'm going to step inside of you. Let me in."_**

The world shifted.

()()()

_It was the mark of the Heir, the symbol of his inheritance. The rest of the clan was furious that he, a bastard child, would receive it. He would have refused, had he been allowed. He didn't wish to lead this warrior clan. But he was not allowed._

_Pain… days upon days of pain, and nothing else except for Ryuuhou's low cackle, and the sensation of being slowly torn apart._

_The final day, when he would finally be free of both Ryuuhou and the pain, he passed out. And when he awoke…_

**_Red. The red of blood; his family and his clansmen dead at his feet._**

_"__I have been cursed." _Koujaku stood, wrapped in a writhing darkness. His eyes were missing the spark of humor and kindness that endeared him to all he met. They were flat, empty.

Aoba was trembling. He knew that he didn't have the strength for this now. But he couldn't bring himself to abandon Koujaku, who was so deeply wounded. The scars on his soul were destroying him, and only Aoba could stop it. He took a step forwards, but then froze as the darkness wrapped around his legs. Through it came every negative emotion that Koujaku had suppressed for all these years.

_I killed my mother. I killed my comrades._

_I'm filthy… a demon. I should die… my existence should just vanish from this world._

He gave a thin, pained smile. _"Still… I couldn't bring myself to commit suicide. Because I knew that you were still here, in this country. So I returned, but I was captured almost immediately and sold to the harem. I had given up – when you suddenly appeared. Like magic."_ The darkness twisted and grew, enveloping them both. Anguish now filled Koujaku's voice. _"But because of me you were hurt like that. I can't forgive myself any longer… I can't run away. So, Aoba…"_ Tears slid down his cheeks like streams of liquid diamond, defying the blackness all around them with their shine. _"Please, let me die."_

"No." It was said softly, and yet there was no space for refute. The writhing darkness stilled at his voice. Aoba's calm gaze met Koujaku's wide eyes. "Don't be so selfish, Koujaku. You want to die? You want to give up?"

_"__Aoba…"_

He took a step forward. "What about me, Koujaku? You defied death to find me, and now, when I'm right in front of you, you plan to abandon me?" The blue flashed. "I won't allow that." Then he reached out and lay a hand lightly on Koujaku's bare chest. "You, and I, both of us will have to live with these markings for the rest of our lives. But Koujaku," he looked up, and there was moisture glinting on his cheeks. He gave a small smile. "Don't lose."

Koujaku bowed his head, the tears falling freely. _"Aoba."_

Aoba reached up and cupped his friend's face between his palms. His face was serene. **_"I'm going to destroy you, Koujaku. I will shatter the 'you' that is chained to the past."_**

Koujaku reached up to cover one of Aoba's hands with his own. Again… again these hands had saved him. From the time they first met as children, it had always been this way. A tear-stained smile touched his lips. He just couldn't resist the light that came with Aoba's presence. He was always drawn towards it, and received warmth and healing without being expected to give anything in return.

_"__Thank you, Aoba."_


	9. DATA08 Song

**DATA_08**

**[Song]**

Koujaku awoke with the feeling of having been dropped from untold heights. His entire body ached, and his limbs were heavy. But when he opened his eyes to see Aoba draped, unconscious, over him, he forced himself to move. Carefully, he slid out from under the younger Concubine's body, and observed the damage that Ryuuhou had done.

All around the tattoos was angry and red, swollen from repeated insertion of a needle without anesthetic. Blood trickled from many of the small wounds. Looking around, Koujaku couldn't see Aoba's tunic. After a moment of contemplation he rose, and walked to the window, where he ripped the silken curtains from their hanging. He returned to Aoba's side and tucked the soft fabric gently around his friend. Lifting the frighteningly slight weight in his arms, Koujaku began to make his way back towards the harem.

He was met by Noiz. "Koujaku! What happened?" The youth's light eyes were worried.

"He's hurt. Are the twins out?"

"Yeah."

"Good. The last thing I need is them in the middle of me trying to treat him."

Noiz followed him into Aoba's room, where Koujaku sat the swaddled form down on the bed and unwrapped him. The blonde Concubine grit his teeth when he saw Aoba's back. A strained _hiss_ escaped from between them. "Can you treat that?"

"I can't call a proper physician. If the palace knew that a Concubine was in this state, he'd be thrown out on the streets without a second thought. He'd _die_." Koujaku sat on the edge of the bed and dipped a cloth into the water that Ren, materializing seemingly from nowhere, had brought. He began to tenderly wash the inflamed area. "Can you keep watch? Make sure that, if they come back, Virus and Trip don't come in here."

Noiz hesitated, he wanted to stay with Aoba, but nodded and slipped through the azure curtain.

As soon as he left, Koujaku allowed his squared shoulders to slump. He didn't know what to do. He was no healer; he had no knowledge of medicine or what remedy would be needed to prevent infection or sickness after such an ordeal. He felt a sudden rush of despair seize him, and his chest tightened painfully. His fist clenched around the cloth he held, squeezing the moisture from it and soaking his leg. The proud warrior bowed his head. _Aoba… what can I do to save him?_

When he had finished cleaning Aoba's body, and wrapped makeshift bandages, torn from a spare sheet, around the youth's torso, Koujaku went to rest, after firmly ordering Ren to get him if anything happened. If he forced his exhausted body to remain awake, he would be no help to Aoba.

For a time the room was silent, until a pale shape slid from the shadows like a ghost and stood beside the unconscious Aoba. It bent over him, strands of white trailing across the face flushed by fever. _"Poor thing. I'll sing for you."_

()()()

_A secret is kept in a silent heart._

_The sea is covering the path._

_Everything belongs to the king._

It was the sound of a familiar lullaby that roused him from the consuming darkness. The words were half nonsense, half truth, a simple tune in minor key. They told a story that had long been forgotten, and they whispered through the blackness to wrap around his tightly curled self.

_In the town, night is falling._

_An old story is told, floating through time._

_Tears fall into the river._

_The sword rests in its sheath._

_The path you searched for is in your soul._

Like a breeze against his skin, lifting strands of his hair, the words coaxed him to return to the land of light, and life. 'Do not stay alone in this place,' they seemed to say. Aoba stirred, responding to the kindness, and the sorrow, in that voice. It was not the same voice that spoke to him in his dreams; this was someone new. They were a holder of secrets, like himself. He felt this before ever meeting them. This person, also, was hiding from the world. He uncurled, allowing himself to reach towards the waking world.

_The stars have not forgotten,_

_Forever continuing this tale._

_You will not be left alone._

_Swaying, swaying within the waves,_

_Weaving a song as I dream._

_And that sparkling memory inside of that song_

_Is the jewel I offered to you._

()()()

He stirred slightly, and slivers of blue flickered beneath the eyelashes. The rose-petal eyes above the black veil smiled. _"You're awake?"_ Though slightly muffled by the fabric, it was the same beautiful, gentle voice that had sung to him while he dreamed.

Aoba opened his eyes fully and gave a tired smile. "I am. Thank you." He glanced to the other side of the bed. "You were here with me all along, Ren?" The slave nodded. "Thank you, too." And then he looked back at the veiled Concubine. "You must be Clear."

_"__Clear is my name,"_ the fair-haired youth agreed. _"What should I call you?"_

"Aoba will do," Aoba chuckled, and then closed his eyes again. "It should be alright for me to sleep, right?"

_"__Yes. I will not let you drift again."_

"Thank you, Clear," Aoba said again, eyes still closed, and then slipped into a deep, healing sleep.

Clear perched on the end of the bed and watched him sleep with intense concentration, as though fearful that the wounded Concubine would stop breathing in the night. Koujaku found him this way when he returned, and only Ren's frantic signs kept him from exploding with rage at finding a stranger in Aoba's bedroom. He had seen Clear around, of course, but never interacted with the most secretive member of the harem. That made him a stranger, as far as Koujaku was concerned.

"What are you _doing_ in here?" he growled at last.

_"__Watching over Aoba,"_ Clear answered simply, without looking away from the sleeping Concubine's face.

Koujaku shook his head and growled something under his breath, the general feel of it being, _"every damn time I turn around."_ He then sat heavily in the chair across the room and proceeded to glare at Clear for the remainder of the evening.

The veiled Concubine, however, only chuckled and begun to hum again.

_The king took the jewel,_

_And he placed it in his crown,_

_Forgetting for why it was there._

_And the path that was covered_

_By the flowing waves_

_Only remains untouched in your heart._


	10. IMPORTANT

**SUPER SORRY EVERYBODY!**

**My computer died (I'm borrowing a friend's) and so there will be no definite updates on ANYTHING until after the holidays. I offer my most humble apologies for doing this to you all right after posting the new release schedule, but modern electronics are ****** that don't let me choose when they fall out on me. I will try to post if possible through borrowed devices, but don't expect anything fancy, and don't try to hold me to it. I'm majorly grateful for everyone who has read, followed, favorite, or reviewed anything I've written. Check out my other projects while you wait, and have a wonderful holiday season, wherever you are and whatever you celebrate.**

**Sincerely, **

**The Author.**


	11. I'M BACK! (AUTHOR'S BULLETIN BOARD)

p style="text-align: center;"Thank you to those who were patient throughout my extended hiatus. To those who were not, well, you're not alone./p  
>p style="text-align: center;"PLEASE NOTE:p  
>p style="text-align: center;"I will no longer be posting announcements on individual stories. Going to each one and posting the same document as a new chapter is becoming a pain with all the new stories I have going. So, from now on I will be posting on the new "story," THE AUTHOR'S BULLETIN BOARD. Note that this is not actually a story, but a place for me make sure people know what's going on. If you are following any of my stories, empleaseem follow BULLETIN BOARD so that you will not be uniformed. I'll use this to post monthly release schedules (what story will be updated on what day of the week or month), as well as hiatus announcements and support thank-yous. Once again, thank you for following my work, and have a happy holiday./p  
>p style="text-align: center;"- The Author.p 


	12. DATA09 Scar

**DATA_09**

**[Scar]**

Aoba traced the design on his back with sensitive fingers, brushing the newly-healed skin with only the slightest of hesitations. It _was_ beautiful, in a way, and it was a fierce and painful reminder of the dangers of life. Though he would never forgive the now-dead Ryuuhou, Aoba believed that he could carry these markings without shame.

"Aoba." Koujaku tapped the doorframe as he stepped in, seemingly unaffected by his friend's appearance. But his eyes flickered darkly when they set upon the tattoos. "Everyone's waiting."

Aoba sighed. Would his gentle friend ever forgive himself, though it wasn't truly his fault? "Thank you, Ren," he sighed, and slipped on the tunic that his servant handed him, glad that the fabric no longer chafed. He glanced at himself once more in the mirror, brow creasing at what he saw. He tried to imagine someone else with his face, and failed. Perhaps they weren't identical, he didn't know. But he tried to imagine it anyway, reminding himself of the reason he was here. When he had finished, he gave a slight nod. "I'm coming."

"Mink will debrief us." Koujaku said the guard's name with considerable distaste. They emerged into the main room, and the others called greeting. Even Clear was there, perched on the back of the couch where Noiz sat. The blonde beckoned, and Aoba sat beside him, but Koujaku remained standing behind the couch, like a bodyguard. Aoba shook his head, but let his friend be.

Mink looked around at the Concubines, and when his gaze came to rest on Aoba, his eyes narrowed slightly. Aoba blinked at the dark-skinned soldier, recognizing his distaste, and gave a small nod. Mink snorted and crossed his arms.

"The King," he announced, "will bring no more Concubines into the harem." He let them murmur amongst themselves for a moment, and then continued, "You will all be expected to fulfill your duties…" here he paused and looked at Clear, who chuckled softly, "both official and not. Uprisings have begun in the south. The perpetrators will eventually come here, and when they do…" he didn't finish, but Aoba could feel Koujaku's rising anger at his back.

It seemed that the flower garden was expected to do its job of a distraction, regardless of the consequences. Aoba began to understand Koujaku's hate of both the king and the guard; he likely had objected at one point, and had been refused.

As though to affirm his thoughts, Koujaku growled, "You expect us to die for this?" Mink turned a dark glare on the warrior, and Koujaku fell silent. But he vowed that this was not the end of it.

()()()

Koujaku stopped Mink before the guard could leave the harem. "How can you tell us to die with a straight face?" he challenged.

Mink was unaffected by the tall Concubine's rage. "Move aside."

Koujaku did not so much as flinch. His red eyes were aflame. His anger wasn't for the twins, who he barely knew, or even for Noiz, who had begun to be his friend. It was Aoba, precious Aoba, always, that drove his actions. He couldn't allow his most treasured person to be dragged into this foolish conflict. "You would likely be glad if we all died by some assassin's hand!" he spat furiously. "How dare you stand there and calmly tell him to die!"

_Him._ Mink's gaze flickered with interest. He had noted the way that the harem had begun to revolve around the newest Concubine. But when Koujaku stepped forward, glaring into the soldier's eyes, one gloved hand flicked upwards, slashing the Concubine's face with the knife he drew from his belt. "Don't overstep your bounds," he warned, and left Koujaku there, kneeling on the floor with one hand pressed to his shocked and bloodstained face.

_Aoba will die if he stays here._ Though he was in pain, and knew that a scarred face might lead to him being thrown out of the palace, that one thought was all that dominated his existence at that moment. _Aoba will die._ As the crimson of his lifeblood painted his face, all he could bring to mind was a single fact: _I have to save him._


End file.
